
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

VIA 

Chap. Copyright No. 

ShelfjB.2X 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 







CARMIO 


THE LITTLE MEXICAN-INDIAN CAPTIVE 



MISS A. M. BARNES 


U 



PHILADELPHIA 

AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY 
1420 Chestnut Street 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED 

xra, ■ . \'lr - Is* 



Copyright 1897 by the 

American Baptist Publication Society 


jfrom tbc Society ’0 own ipress 


CONTENTS 


I. Captured 5 

II. The Escape 19 

III. DANGER 33 

IV. Recaptured 47 

V. With the Apaches 61 

VI. AMONG THE KlOWAS 75 

VII. Good things for carmio .... 89 




























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CAPTURED 



eARMIO 


CAPTURED 



EARS ago the Indians of the 
Western plains, those that we 
now know as the Apaches, Coman- 
ches, and Kiowas, used to make 
raids into Texas and Mexico. 
They would burn houses, kill peo- 
ple, drive off cattle, and very often carry 
women and children into captivity. 

At this time there was living near one 
of the towns in northeast Mexico a little 
boy nine years old, named Carmio. His 
father was dead, but he had a good, kind 
mother, and a pleasant home. He was 
quite a handsome little fellow, with brown 

7 


8 


CARMIO 


skin, dark eyes, and crisp curls of black 
hair all about his forehead. 

Now there was one thing Carmio did 
not like to do. He did not mind tell- 
ing of it himself. It was that he did not 
like to go to school. Over in the town, 
a mile and a half away, there was a 
young priest who kept a school, for 
Mexico was then, as it is now, a Roman 
Catholic country. Every morning Car- 
mio's mother, after fixing his books and 
a little lunch in his basket, went with him 
through the gate and for some way down 
the road. This she did to encourage him 
and to make him go more cheerfully to 
school. She would then kiss him, and 
say: 

“ Adios, Carmio mio (Good-bye, my 
Carmio). Be a good boy; study the 
books; and mind the priest/ * 

Carmio would return the kiss, but he 
would make no effort to go forward. In- 
deed he would stand and gaze after his 
mother until she was out of sight. Then 


CAPTURED 


9 


he would creep along the road to school 
as though he had iron weights to his 
* * guaraches ' ' (sandals). 

How Carmio loved to see vacation 
come. Then he could go fishing, and to 
help the men gather the fibres of the 
maguey (century plant) to make baskets. 
Sometimes too, when they burnt the 
charcoal, his mother would let him camp 
out with them. 

Early in one of Carmio' s vacations 
they were made glad by a visit from his 
eldest brother, Jacinto. He lived about 
thirty miles off, away up among the 
mountains, and he had a great sheep 
ranch. 

“ How has Carmio been doing the last 
term at school ? " asked Jacinto. 

Carmio watched his mother's face 
anxiously. He was sure something was 
coming. It always did when his brother 
looked like that. How would his mother 
answer ? Oh, he did hope she would be 
easy on him. He did wish now that he 


IO 


CARMIO 


had studied better and had not shown so 
plainly that he did not like the school. 
His mother hesitated. 

“ Well, he did a little better toward the 
last of the term.” 

* ‘ I think Carmio would rather be a 
ranchman than a scholar,” said Jacinto 
smiling. 

“That I would,” said Carmio with 
candor. “The books make me go to 
sleep, they are so dull and stupid.” 

“Oh, yes, so it seems,” replied his 
brother. “ Very well, go to sleep now. 
I have something to say to the madre- 
cita (little mother).” 

But Carmio did not obey. Indeed, 
he kept his eyes wider open than ever, 
and his ears with them, for he knew it 
was something about himself his brother 
was going to say, and he knew Jacinto 
was only teasing. 

“Well,” said Jacinto, “now that 
Carmio has gone to sleep, I want to say 
to thee, madrecita, that I think it would 


CAPTURED 


be a fine plan to let him come this vaca- 
tion and help me with the lambs. In 
this way he can earn enough to buy the 
clothes he will need for the next term.” 

“ But he is so small,” objected the 
mother. “ I don't think he could do 
much minding the lambs.” 

“Oh, boys as small as he are even 
minding sheep. There is not much to 
do, only to keep the lambs where they 
can get the tenderest pickings, and to see 
that no dogs are about.” 

“Oh, mother, do let me go!” cried 
Carmio. 

“What! Carmio awake?” said his 
brother, pretending to be surprised. 
“ Why, I thought he was asleep.” 

“But I am afraid of the Indians,” 
said their mother again. “ I hear they 
have been making raids up that way late- 
ly, and doing many terrible things.” 

* ‘ They will not come within range of 
my ranch,” replied Jacinto with confi- 
dence. “They know better. It is too 


12 


CARMIO 


well guarded, and I have guns. Besides 
Carmio will not go out of sight of the 
ranch. I will impress it upon him that 
he must not.” 

So it was settled that Carmio should 
go. The next morning, after kissing his 
mother and promising to be a good boy, 
and to keep a sharp lookout for the In- 
dians, he rode away beside his brother 
on his little pony, his clothes in a roll 
strapped behind him, one of the happiest, 
if not the happiest, boy in all Mexico. 

For a day or so Carmio roamed about 
the ranch with his brother, ** getting his 
eyes on things,” as the latter called it. 
Then he went regularly to work minding 
the lambs. 

At first Carmio kept in mind the promise 
to his mother and the cautions of his 
brother, and was very careful. He kept 
within sight of the ranch, and always he 
was on the lookout for Indians. But 
after a while he grew careless. The 
little lambs were quite frisky. Some- 


CAPTURED 


13 


times they would go romping on and on, 
stopping every now and then to nibble at 
the tender blades. For a while Carmio 
drove them back, but soon he stopped 
doing this and would follow them, feel- 
ing a childish delight in their gambols. 
He liked the free and joyous life, the 
open air, the blue sky, and the beautiful 
hills and mountains on which the lights 
seemed to fall and flash as though they 
were covered with myriads of jewels. 
Oh, how beautiful are the Mexican moun- 
tains ! 

Carmio had made friends with a boy 
from the next ranch. The name of this 
boy was Hermando. He was two years 
older than Carmio, and rather more willful 
and daring. It was he who proposed to 
Carmio that they go some little distance 
beyond his brother’s ranch to a nice 
grazing place he knew, the very best in 
all the country, he said. At first Carmio 
would not. 

** I promised my mother I would be 


14 


CARMIO 


careful/' he said. “ She begged me to 
watch out for the Comanches." 

* * Oh, the Comanches ! ' ' said Hermando 
loftily. “Why they haven't been just 
here at all. Don't you know they are 
afraid to come ? Your brother keeps 
guns. Besides, aren't we men enough to 
take care of ourselves ? " 

Thus Carmio was led to go with the 
lambs to the new grazing ground, though 
he felt he ought not to go. It was such 
a beautiful place, a valley shut in by the 
hills, like a jewel in a box, and all about 
the grass was tender and green. There 
were piles of rocks heaped here and there, 
and under the shadow of these Carmio used 
to lie, when not talking to Hermando, 
and dream of the time when he too would 
be a man, and have a great ranch with 
horses and cows and sheep, and ever so 
many more fine things. He too would 
keep guns, and he would fight the Co- 
manches. Oh, yes, he would certainly 
fight the Comanches. 


CAPTURED 


15 


He was lying thus one day when he 
was startled by a piercing cry from 
Hermando : 

* * Los Comanchys ! los Comanchys ! 
a Dios ! a Dios ! (The Comanches ! the 
Comanches! OGod! OGod!)” 

Carmio sprang to his feet and stood up 
among the rocks. It was only too true; 
there were the terrible Comanches, twelve 
of them, mounted on their ponies, and 
in all their horrible war paint, and with 
feathers stuck in their hair. Carmio for- 
got all the bravery of which he had been 
dreaming the moment before. Poor little 
fellow ! Such a sight was enough to cause 
the stoutest heart to quail. He tried to 
crouch down again so as to crawl farther 
in among the rocks and thus conceal him- 
self. But it was too late. He had been 
seen, and with a shout they spurred their 
ponies toward him. Two of them jumped 
off, came toward the rocks, and reaching 
down dragged him out. Then they 
placed him on his feet close beside Her- 


1 6 CAR MI 0 

mando, at the same time giving both to 
understand what would be done if they 
cried out or made other noise. 

The Indians were all on ponies, and 
besides had several they were leading, 
some they had stolen no doubt. They 
lifted Hermando to put him upon one of 
these ponies. The thought of being thus 
dragged away from home was so terrible 
that, in spite of the warning of the In- 
dians, he began to kick and scream. 

“Kish! kish! (Steady! steady!)” 
said the Indian sternly, his eyes flashing, 
and pointing as he spoke toward the knife 
in his belt. 

Hermando was lifted without more 
trouble to the pony and bound, while 
another Indian did the same for Carmio. 

The latter dared not cry out or resist. 
The glance and gesture that had been 
given Hermando told him only too plainly 
what would be done if they gave their 
captors any trouble, and so he tried to be 
very quiet. 


CAPTURED 


17 


After binding the two boys the two 
Indians again mounted, and all rode away 
at a swift gallop, the heads of their ponies 
turned, as Carmio knew only too well, 
toward the Rio Grande, and away from 
his dear home. 

Poor little Carmio ! he turned his head 
backward to get the last glimpse of the 
spot where he knew his brother’s ranch 
lay. A hill shut it from view, but he 
could see the smoke curling upward from 
the brow of the hill. He knew that old 
Martina had just begun her fires to boil 
food for the youngest lambs outdoors, 
and to prepare supper for the boys and 
men indoors. Oh, what would he not 
give if he had never gone out of sight of 
that ranch ! Above all, if he had only 
obeyed his mother, his precious mother, 
who loved him so, and who would be 
completely heartbroken over this dread- 
ful thing that had happened to her baby 
boy. 

He bowed his head upon his hands, 

B 


i8 


CARMIO 


and while the tears trickled through his 
fingers, the cry of his heart was : 

‘ ‘ 0 madrecita mia ! 0 madrecita 

mia! (0 my little mother 1) If I had 
only minded thee !” 


II 


THE ESCAPE 





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THE ESCAPE 

HE Indians traveled rapidly all 
the rest of that afternoon and 
into the night. Then, coming 
to a wooded place, where a 
small stream ran, they stopped 
and prepared to camp. 

Carmio and Hermando were so tired 
from the long, rough ride on the bare 
backs of the ponies, and so cut and hurt 
by the tight cords that bound them, 
that they could hardly stand when lifted 
from the ponies. Indeed, after making 
a great effort to stand, Carmio fell. 

“ Get up! ” said one of the Indians, 
giving him a savage kick. 

He tried to obey, found himself more 
unsteady upon his feet than ever, clutched 
at Hermando to save himself, and this 
time both wert over together. They 



21 


22 


CARMIO 


were jerked to their feet, and again 
kicked. 

The Indians now unloosed the cords 
that bound their hands and partly so 
those that bound their feet. Then they 
made them crawl about and gather twigs 
with which to build the fire. 

The supper was cooked and eaten. 
Only a small amount was given to the 
two young captives. But small as it was, 
it was more than they could eat, for their 
hearts were so full of the pain and the 
terror of what had happened to them that 
it made the sobs almost choke them. 

The Indians heaped up the brush and 
leaves for beds, and, placing two on 
guard, prepared to go to sleep for the 
night. They formed a circle about the 
fire, Carmio and Hermando being placed 
within the circle. Soon all were asleep 
except the two on guard and the little 
captives. Carmio lay upon his back, 
watching the stars as they twinkled 
through the boughs of the trees. Now 


THE ESCAPE 


23 


and then he could not see them at all 
for the blinding tears that filled his eyes. 

Somewhere up there Carmio knew 
there was a great Being whose name was 
God. Carmio had been taught to pray 
to him through the Virgin, who was the 
mother of his son, Jesus, and had been 
taught that this great God could do many 
things if only the Virgin or one of the 
saints would beseech him in the name of 
the one who prayed. There was the 
good Saint Anthony ; he was the saint of 
little children. He had played with the 
child Jesus and helped to carry his play- 
things, therefore he loved all children and 
would help them when in trouble. 

“ Oh, dear, good Virgin, sweet Mother 
of Jesus, and dear good Saint Anthony/' 
prayed poor little Carmio out of the full- 
ness of his sorrow, ‘‘do hear, do pity, 
and do save poor Carmio and Her- 
mando ! 0 Virgin, forgive that I dis- 

obeyed my own precious mother. If I 
had only thought of thee and of her and 


24 


CARMIO 


of how it would have wounded both, I 
would not have done it ! I would not, I 
would not ! ’ * 

After a while he heard Hermando call 
to him softly : 

“ Art thou asleep, Carmio ? ” 

“ No,” replied Carmio in the same low 
tones. 

“ Pay close heed, then, to what I will 
tell thee. We must try to escape, for I 
would rather die than go away with these 
Indians. All are asleep. I have looked 
about closely, and I am sure. Even the 
two who were put to watch are nodding. 
They will soon be gone into sound slum- 
ber. When they are, then we must creep 
away.” 

“ But how can we with our feet and 
hands bound as they are ? ' * 

‘‘Hist! Bend thine ear closer. The 
Indian who tied my hands the last time 
did not do it well. I have slipped the 
cords, and my hands are now free. Hast 
thou a knife, Carmio ? ” 


THE ESCAPE 


25 


“Yes, a little knife my brother gave 
me. It is in my pocket.' * 

“ Which pocket ? " 

Carmio told him. 

“Well, turn as I tell thee and I will 
get it out. Hist! be careful; the two 
Indians on guard are not yet well asleep." 

Carmio turned nearer Hermando, so 
that he could run his hand into his 
pocket and draw out the knife. Though 
small it was sharp, and Hermando soon 
had not only his own bonds cut but Car- 
mio 's also. They were free now as to 
hand and foot, but how were they to get 
away with so many of the Indians all 
around them ? Even if they got without 
the circle safely, might not some noise, 
however careful they might be, betray 
them ? The ground was full of dried 
twigs, any one of which was likely to 
snap if stepped upon. It was dark too, 
under the trees, and they could not pick 
their way as carefully as in the light. 

But Hermando was bound to escape, 


26 


CARMIO 


never mind how great the risk, for, as he 
said, he would rather die than be carried 
away a captive by these Indians. As his 
was the stronger nature, it led Carmio's. 

“ The two have at last fallen into sound 
sleep,” whispered Hermando. “ Now, 
Carmio ! Let us get on our hands and 
knees and creep away. There is room 
between those Indians yonder. For thy 
life do not make a sound ! ” 

They crept away softly, and passed the 
line of sleeping Indians. They were 
now outside the circle. 

“ We can get on our feet,” said Her- 
mando. “It is now the twigs I fear. 
Look for them closely, Carmio.” 

They were not more than twenty paces 
from the camp, when all of a sudden 
Hermando' s foot came upon a dry 


icross a little hollow, and it 
gave way with a loud snap. 



do, 


“Run,” said Herman- 
d, “or we are lost ! ” 
Carmio started, but it 



\ 


THE ESCAPE 


27 


was too late ! Three of the Indians were 
aroused, the two that were on guard and 
one of the sleeping circle. They saw at 
once what had happened, and sprang up 
to follow. 

“ Stop! ” called one of the Indians. 

Carmio obeyed, and in this way his life 
was saved. But not so Hermando. He 
kept on, rushing away as fast as his 
strong young legs would carry him. He 
had said, “ Better death than captivity/ * 
and he had meant it. 

On went Hermando, but alas ! those 
legs, once strong and swift, had been 
weakened by the binding, and they could 
not carry him now with their usual vigor. 
It was dark too, in the woods, and he 
could not see just the best way to go. 
Suddenly he fell, stumbled in a hollow, 
and went rolling over and over. Before 
he could get up again one of the Indians 
was beside him. Very angry, the man 
drew his lance and in a moment more 
poor Hermando was dead. 


28 


CARMIO 


The body was brought back to camp 
on the point of the Indian’s lance, and 
laid down with a meaning gesture directly 
in front of Carmio. He almost fainted 
when he saw it. Oh, what a terrible end 
for poor Hermando ! They then took 
Hermando’s body and threw it out on 
the prairies for the wolves and buzzards 
to eat. 

This was more than poor Carmio could 
endure. He begged them to bury Her- 
mando, to give him even a shallow grave 
in the sand. They refused him and with 
threats. But at last one of the Indians, 
who seemed to have a kinder heart than 
the others, said that Hermando might be 
buried, but that Carmio must bury him. 
This Carmio was very ready to do; so 
they unbound him that he might dig the 
grave. He scooped it out of the sand 
with a piece of wood and with his hands, 
and all the time the Indians were stand- 
ing over him and taunting him in various 
ways. It was at last dug, and Carmio 's 


THE ESCAPE 


29 


hands laid Hermando in his lonely grave 
on the far-away prairies. Then the sand 
was thrown in and rocks piled about the 
place. 

“ Oh, if I ever get home,” said Car- 
mio to himself sadly as he turned away 
from the grave, “ I will beg Father Rod- 
rigo to say a mass for poor Hermando.’ ’ 

Yes, if he ever got home again! 
Would he ? The chances seemed so 
against it now that even the thought sick- 
ened poor Carmio’s heart. 

At sunrise the next morning the Indi- 
ans had broken camp, and were again on 
their way, keeping the heads of their 
ponies turned almost northward. 

Carmio now rode between two of the 
Indians. He was more closely bound 
than ever; only at camping times were 
his bonds loosened, and then only that he 
might bring the wood and water and 
make the fires. 

As they went onward Carmio noticed 
something that caused a ray of sudden 


30 


CARMIO 


hope to go to his heart. For he was 
thinking all the time about making his 
escape from the Indians. Hermando’s 
death had left him sadder and lonelier 
than ever, and he felt, as poor Hermando 
had, that he would rather die than go on 
with these Indians. He had thought for 
some time that one of the captured ponies 
looked as though he had seen it before, 
and now he was sure that he did know 
the pony. It was Pedro, a pony his 
brother had owned. Indeed, he had sold 
it only a few days before to a near ranch- 
man. It had perhaps been left out to 
graze, and thus the Indians had found it. 

Carmio knew Pedro to be a fast pony, 
one of the fastest in all that part of the 
country. Once on Pedro’s back and fly- 
ing southward like the wind, it would give 
the Indians a task to catch him if they 
ever did. Another hope was that he felt 
sure Pedro would know the way, for he 
was a bright pony as well as a fast one. 

When they halted for dinner that day 


THE ESCAPE 


3i 


Carmio managed to give Pedro a gentle 
pat and a soft word. The pony at once 
knew him, for he whisked his head and 
answered with a glad neigh. Carmio 
would have made the effort to escape 
then, but it was not the time he wanted. 
He would wait for the dusk. 

At evening they stopped again to 
camp for the night. The place was not 
so thickly wooded as before. It was a 
mere strip of trees, and beyond it were 
the prairies, the tall grasses swaying 
gently in the wind. 

They unbound Carmio’s hands and feet 
and sent him to gather fuel. In the 
meantime they staked the ponies, placing 
them some little way off on the prairie. 

Carmio had brought one turn of fuel 
and was going for another. Feeling sure 
that Hermando’s fate had cowed him 
enough so that he would not try to 
escape, the Indians were not so careful 
in watching him. 

Carmio started for the fuel, keeping 


3 2 


CARMIO 


one eye upon the camp and the other 
upon the ponies. He went out of his 
way to one side and suddenly, instead of 
going deeper into the woods, turned 
toward the prairie where the ponies were 
grazing. He gained the group of ponies 
and passed in between them and was thus 
screened. With a running bound he 
reached the stake to which Pedro was 
fastened, threw into the effort all the 
strength of his young arms and jerked it 
from the earth. Then, keeping the stake 
in his hands and gathering in the rope, 
he sprang upon Pedro’s back with a word 
of endearment and the command to go. 
The pony needed no second bidding. 
The next moment they had begun their 
race for life headed for the south. But 
not before the dread Comanche war- 
whoop, coming from the camp, broke 
upon the air. 




HI 


DANGER 














































































































* 


t 









■« 





















DANGER 


T T took the Comanches some time to 



gain their ponies, unfasten them, and 


mount. By this time Carmio was 


nearly the third of a mile ahead, and 


rushing onward like the wind. The 


long journey of the day had tired Pe- 


dro ; but as for that all the ponies had 


had a share in it. It was in Pedro’s favor 


That he had not carried any heavy bur- 
den during the march. The way he was 
speeding along now, he did not seem to 
be tired at all. Doubtless Pedro felt, as 
did his little rider, that the joy of free- 
dom, perhaps of life, depended upon his 
efforts. 

Carmio feared the long piece of rope 
and the stake to which Pedro had been 
tied, and which he had gathered in his 
hands as he sprang to the pony’s back. 


35 


36 


CARMIO 


If he should drop it, then it might be- 
come tangled in Pedro’s feet, tripping 
him, and thus cause great mischief. He 
determined to get rid of it if he could. 
Bending down, and clinging more closely 
to the pony, he managed to unfasten it 
from about Pedro’s neck. Straightening 
up again, he gathered stake and rope 
more carefully in his hand, and threw it 
from him, as far from the course the pony 
was taking as he could. He now had 
neither saddle nor bridle, but Carmio, for 
a little fellow, was a fearless rider. Be- 
sides he trusted Pedro. The pony would 
need no guidance, for he knew the way. 
Carmio felt he need only cling to his mane, 
keep a firm seat, and trust to Pedro. 

He could hear the yells and shouts of 
the Indians as they came on behind him. 
Once he looked back. They were send- 
ing their arrows after him, but so far none 
had reached him. The course taken by 
the pony was almost parallel with the 
strip of woods. Soon they came to a 


DANGER 


37 


jutting point, or rather a bend of the 
forest. Around this the pony rushed, 
heading due southwest. By this move- 
ment the Indians were for a time shut off 
from view. But alas ! in that time some- 
thing happened to Carmio which might 
bring upon him not only capture, but 
also death, for poor Hermando’s fate had 
told him that one meant the other. 

It must have been a hollow in the 
prairie ; at any rate Pedro rushing onward, 
suddenly stumbled, and with such force 
that Carmio went spinning over his head 
and into a sand hillock. Now, had Pedro 
been less excited over the race for liberty, 
he might have stopped for Carmio to get 
on his back again. But alas ! Pedro was 
only a pony, and so couldn’t think as a 
human helper would have done. He 
knew he was being chased, and the wish 
to escape was the first thing with Pedro. 
Thus, getting on his feet, he went speed- 
ing on and on, leaving poor Carmio lying 
in the sand hillock. 


38 


CAR MI O 


For a second or so Carmio was too 
stunned to rise. His hands and face too 
were scratched and bleeding, for he had 
fallen near the outer edge of a bed of 
cactuses. As he realized his danger he 
made haste to get upon his feet. Already 
he could hear the shouts and cries of the 
Indians as they neared the point. Once 
around it there would be no hope for him. 
He must escape while he could. There 
was no chance to reach Pedro, for the 
pony was now almost out of hearing. 
Even if he could hear a call, and obeying 
it return, it would be too late. The In- 
dians would be there. Carmio must fly 
to the woods and hide himself until the 
Indians passed. They would see the 
pony and think that Carmio was still 
upon Pedro's back, for they would know 
nothing of the fall if he could get out of 
sight. 

The woods were near, not more than 
fifteen or twenty paces. It was now 
dusk, and the shadows had gathered. 


DANGER 


39 


There was a moon, but it was only faintly 
shining from among the trees. Objects 
at a distance could not be seen clearly. 
With all his strength Carmio turned and 
ran toward the woods. He had barely 
time to crouch down behind a tree, when 
the Indians came speeding around the 
bend. Seeing the pony still flying along 
in the distance, they urged their own 
ponies to greater speed, and set off with 
renewed shouts. 

As soon as they had passed out of 
sight, Carmio started to make his escape 
more sure by going farther into the woods. 
He had just moved away when he thought 
he heard a shout. Could it be that the 
Indians had seen he was not on Pedro's 
back, and were coming back ? The 
thought aroused Carmio so that he began 
to run like a frightened deer into the 
woods, taking little care as to where he 
placed his feet. He was running in this 
headlong way, when all at once he felt 
his feet slip from under him, and down 


40 


CARMIO 


he went, rolling over and over, till there 
was a sudden, sharp shock, and then 
Carmio knew no more for some minutes. 
When he came to himself he was lying 
on a bed of leaves, seemingly midway 
between the top and bottom of a ravine, 
and not far away he could hear the sound 
of falling water. He raised himself, and 
soon found that, except for a few sore 
places, he was all right. He did not 
know what better to do than to stay where 
he was until morning. 

There was a hollow in the side of the 
bank near where he lay. He drew the 
leaves into this until he had a great bed 
of them. In this he cuddled down 
snugly, pulling the leaves up about him, 
and slept soundly until morning. 

The sun was shining into the ravine 
when he woke. The gorge seemed to be 
about thirty feet deep and ten or twelve 
wide. Carmio, as has been said, had 
fallen only about half-way, a projecting 
ledge having caught him. He scrambled 


DANGER 


4i 


down and found his way to the water he 
had heard during the night, for he was 
very thirsty. It was a tiny stream that 
trickled through the rocks and fell into a 
mossy pool below. All about it grew 
ferns and wild flowers, and it was such a 
beautiful place that for the moment Carmio 
forgot all his troubles in delight. 

He knelt down beside the tiny basin 
and drank, then bathed his face and 
hands. He was very hungry ; what 
could he find to eat ? He looked about. 
There were no berries or nuts. At last 
he found a tree, but the squirrels had 
been there before him. 

While he was looking about a saucy gray 
squirrel, with his plume curled over his 
back, came and sat on a rock almost be- 
side him. Carmio’ s hand went to a stone 
that lay near by. He knew that he could 
easily kill the little animal, for though 
Carmio was small, he had a sure hand in 
throwing. His fingers closed about the 
rock, then he let it slip away again. 



42 


CARMIO 


“No,” he said; “no, I will not kill 
thee. Life is sweet to thee as to me. 
God made thee as well as me. Keep 
then the life he gave ; I know how dread- 
ful death can be.” 

Tears were in his eyes as he turned 
away from the squirrel. He would find 
something to eat, but it would be nothing 
that had life in it and that he must kill. 

All at once a daring resolve came to 
him. He was pressed by hunger or he 
never would have thought of it even for 
a moment. He would return to the camp 
where the Indians had been and get food. 
He knew they had plenty which they had 
left when they started to chase him. It 
never once came to him that all the In- 
dians might not have left the camp, that 
some would stay to care for the things. 
But before Carmio had walked many 
steps he took a second thought. To this 
he owed his life. It was that before he 
started toward the camp he would creep 
near the edge of the forest and take a 


DANGER 


43 


look out upon the plains. He climbed 
up into the thick branches of a tree and 
glanced out over the prairie. The tree 
grew almost at the edge of the forest. 
Carmio had not more than settled himself 
and raised his eyes for the look out, when 
he saw a sight that made his heart beat 
so that it almost choked him. In. plain 
view was a band of Indians. They were 
mounted and were riding straight toward 
him, though they seemed to be riding 
slowly. 

Carmio’ s first impulse was to jump 
down and run back into the forest; but 
he was afraid he would be seen. By the 
time he could scramble from the tree and 
spring to the ground he was sure he would 
be seen. So he crouched still farther 
within the limbs and waited. 

On came the Indians. As they drew 
nearer Carmio saw with increased fear 
that they were the Indians who had 
chased him. They had plainly given up 
the chase, either because they had failed 


44 


CAR MI O 


to overtake Pedro, or because they had 
found out that Carmio was no longer 
upon the pony's back. Carmio was 
afraid it was the latter by the suspicious 
way they glanced at the forest as they 
came near. Would they spy him in the 
tree? It looked very much like it, for 
as they came near two of the Indians 
left the others and rode toward the forest. 
Carmio could hear his heart beat. Surely 
the Indians would hear it too. It seemed 
to him, in the great fright that held him, 
that they must even hear him breathe. 

But surely God was helping poor 
Carmio, for, having given a sweeping 
glance through the forest, the two Indians 
rode on to rejoin the others. It may 
have been they were not looking for 
Carmio after all, but for some chance 
game that might be in the woods. How- 
ever, just as Carmio thought himself the 
safer, it seemed that greater danger than 
ever was at hand. 

The two Indians had not more than 


DANGER 


45 


reached their company, and all were un- 
pleasantly near, when Carmio, in trying 
to ease his cramped position, lost his hold 
upon a limb, and with a noise that he felt 
sure was louder than the crash of the 
whole tree in falling, plunged to the 
branches below, clinging there for dear 
life. At the same moment there came 
ringing out the loud shout of the Co- 
manches. 

“I am lost!” moaned Carmio. “0 
sweet Virgin, dear Mother of God, let me 
die ere they seize me.” 

Ah, if Carmio had only known then 
how to pray direct to God. 






















































IV 

RECAPTURED 





RECAPTURED 

ARM 10 waited in terrible sus- 
pense, his head bent down, his 
eyes upon the ground. He dared 
not raise them; he could not. 
The sight would be too dreadful 
to endure. Every moment he thought he 
would feel those savage hands close about 
him and drag him from the tree. Their 
awful shouts of triumph would soon be in 
his ears. But he would not have to listen 
to them long. In a moment or so all 
would be over. They would make quick 
work of him as they had of poor Her- 
mando. 

But hark ! what did those sounds mean? 
For instead of coming nearer, the cries, 
the shouts, were going farther and farther 
away. With his heart almost standing 
still, Carmio raised his eyes. Could he 

D 49 


5o 


CARMIO 


believe them? Two deer had bounded 
from the woods, and the Indians were now 
in hot chase straight across the prairie. 
It had then been game, after all, for which 
the two Indians were looking when they 
rode so near the strip of forest, and the 
deer had bounded out just in time to draw 
their attention from Carmio as he fell. 

' He waited until the Indians were too 
far away to notice him, even if they had 
turned to look back, then he scrambled 
down from the tree and again went deeper 
into the forest. 

But soon he knew this would not do. 
If he were ever to find his way home, as 
he longed with all his heart to do, then 
he must leave the forest and go over the 
prairies. There was no other course. 
He could go for only about a half-mile 
or so by way of the forest. 

When he had come to the farthest edge 
of the woods, he hid behind a tree and 
gazed long and carefully out over the 
plains. No living thing was in sight. 


RECAPTURED 


5 


He did not see even an animal moving 
about. Still he lingered; still his heart 
failed him. In the forest there was some 
protection, some chance of hiding, but out 
on the prairies there was neither. But if 
he stayed in the forest he would never 
reach his home. If that sweet time was 
to come to him he must go forward. 

His hunger, which fright had made 
him forget for the time, had now in- 
creased so much that he could hardly 
endure it. Before leaving the woods he 
would search for some berries at least. 
After much looking he found a tree with 
some nuts. He cracked a handful be- 
tween the stones and ate them ; then he 
filled his pockets. 

He now turned his face toward the 
prairies. At this place the grass was 
very tall. It came nearly to his waist. 
He found some trouble in making his way 
through it; but he knew this was not 
nearly so bad as the stretches of cactus 
to which he would come after a while. 


52 


CAR M 10 


Soon the sun began to grow unpleas- 
antly warm. It made Carmio feel faint 
and sick. The thirst too, came back, 
but alas ! there was now no sweet tric- 
kling stream at hand to give a drink. He 
toiled on almost ready to drop. Not a 
tree or a bush could he see anywhere, 
only bare plains with here and there a 
clump of sharp cactus. He was indeed 
thankful these were not nearer together, 
for then he would have had a bad time 
getting through them. 

After a while, when he had almost 
given up in despair and felt that he must 
fall by the way, he came to a great patch 
of wild sunflowers, such as now and then 
may be seen on the prairies of the West. 
Some of the stalks were as large as a 
man's wrist. They gave a deep shade, 
into which poor little Carmio sank with 
ft a moan, he was so tired, as well as 
with a feeling of the deepest thank- 
fulness. He was so weak, so weary, 
; “n he lay there for the rest 


RECAPTURED 


53 


of the day scarcely moving. He now 
decided he would do most of his travel- 
ing by night. There would be less chance 
of his being seen by Indians. 

When the moon came up he started 
again. He had not gone more than two 
or three miles when a new, an awful dan- 
ger faced him. Over the prairies, and 
charging down toward him, he saw a herd 
of wild cattle. His first impulse was to 
turn and flee, but that, he knew a mo- 
ment afterward, would be almost like in- 
viting death, for should the cattle see him 
they would be sure to chase him. 

The cattle were not far away now , and 
still rushing toward him. He tried to get 
out of their way as much as possible, but 
it was hard to tell now just which way 
they would come. Any little thing might 
cause them to swerve from the direction 
in which they seemed to be coming. 

A sudden thought struck Carmio. It 
was like a flash of inspiration. In his 
pocket was a box of the little wax 


54 


CAR MI O 


matches he had brought from his Mexi- 
can home. He would tear off a piece of 
his straw hat, set it afire, and with it fire 
the grass in front of the cattle. The 
wind was blowing that way and it would 
carry the fire toward them. 

The first match went out, and so did 
the second. His hand trembled so that 
he could scarcely hold the third. There 
was not a moment to lose. The cattle 
were now so near the tramp of their feet 
shook the earth where he stood. The 
match flared up, flickered, flared up again, 
and then held a steady flame. The dry 
bit of straw caught well, and soon the 
grass was afire. It swept toward the 
cattle, growing brighter and bigger. 
There was a sudden mighty bellowing, 
cries of almost human terror, then with 
a swiftness and skill that would have 
done credit to a body of cavalrymen, 
the herd of cattle swerved sharply to the 
right and thus passed around the circle^ of 
fire and Carmio. 


RECAPTURED 


55 


Yes, Carmio was saved; but was there 
not a new danger ? He stood watching 
the fire. Every moment it seemed to 
grow brighter and bigger and fiercer. 

“Oh, what mischief have I done?” 
he cried. “ Have I set the whole prairie 
on fire ? If so, then I may never see 
my home, for the wind may change, and 
it may sweep back this way and seize 
me. And to think too, of the poor crea- 
tures that may burn ! ’ ' 

This last thought was so dreadful to 
Carmio that he dropped his head upon 
his hands and gave way to tears. When 
at last he raised his eyes, he saw that the 
fire was burning itself out. It had met 
with something that refused to feed it. 
When at length the ground grew cool 
enough for him to go on, he saw that it 
was a water hole. Had Carmio been 
older and with more knowledge of the 
desert, he would have known from the 
signs that there was one not far away. 

He hailed it now with a cry of joy, 


56 


CARMIO 


and running to it, kneeled down to drink. 
The water was not of the coolest, but how 
sweet it tasted ! Never in all his life had 
a drink been so refreshing. 

He went on all that night. He heard 
the wolves and the coyotes and the wild- 
cats, and their cries made him shiver, but 
he got safely by all danger of this kind. 
God was surely watching over Carmio. 
Just at daybreak he sank down worn out 
under a small clump of cottonwood trees. 
After a while he became aware that there 
was a wreath of smoke curling upward 
over the prairie. He raised himself and 
looked carefully. Now he could see 
plainly that it came from a camp-fire. 
About it were many moving forms, and 
he knew they were Indians. 

He must stay where he was. Outside 
the one small clump of trees all else in 
sight was bare prairie. Even this clump 
was but poor shelter, for should the In- 
dians, on breaking camp, pass near it, 
they would be sure to see him, 


RECAPTURED 


57 


Even while he looked he saw a sudden 
stir in the camp. Two Indians had rid- 
den hastily up, and were making many 
signs and gestures to the others. Soon 
it was evident that the camp was to be 
broken up and all the Indians to set forth 
again on the march. Which way would 
they take ? The thought that they might 
go by the clump of cottonwoods made 
Carmio’s heart almost cease to beat. But 
soon it went on again and with happy 
throbs, for the Indians, after catching 
their ponies and packing up their things, 
started off in a direction exactly opposite 
to the one where Carmio lay under the 
trees. 

Carmio waited an hour, two or three it 
seemed to him. Would the Indians re- 
turn ? It seemed not. They had been 
gone too long now. He stole out and 
toward the camp. What was his joy 
to find some scraps of the meat they had 
cooked and two or three corn cakes still 
wrapped in the ashes ! He ate them 


58 


CARMIO 


greedily, putting what was left in the 
folds of his blanket, for his pockets were 
yet well stocked with the nuts. 

As the sun began to slant toward the 
west he decided he would go on. There 
seemed to be, some distance away, a 
strip of woods to cross. He would rather 
pass through that in the daytime, he de- 
cided ; at night he might stray from his 
way. 

Carmio was just coming out of the 
strip of woods when he heard shouts and 
cries and shrieks, the latter as though in 
a woman's voice; then following these 
all kinds of horrible noises. Looking 
across the space beyond the trees he saw 
a sight that caused the blood in his veins 
to turn cold as ice, it seemed to him, for 
he was only a little fellow after all, and 
even the heart of a strong man would 
have grown chill at such a scene as that. 
He had come upon a settlement, and the 
Indians were attacking it. The house 
was already on fire and the people were 


RECAPTURED 


59 


flying in every direction. But Carmio 
could look no more. Turning, he ran 
back into the woods, scurrying here and 
there like a frightened deer, and taking 
no care as to the noise he made. All at 
once he heard a shout, then rapid feet 
behind him. The next moment a great 
red hand swept downward, and he was 
grasped by the shoulder. 

“ Good,” said the Indian in his own 
language. “ Here is one Tab-i-to-sa will 
not slay. He is of use.” 

Poor little Carmio ! His brave struggle 
for freedom, the hard things he had borne, 
the dangers, had been for nothing ; he was 
recaptured. 

















































V 


WITH THE APACHES 





























% 















































WITH THE APACHES 



HE Indians who had now cap- 
tured Carmio were not the same 
as the ones who had first taken 
him. Those were Comanches, 
while these were Kiowas. They 
did not look so fierce, but that 
they could be as cruel, poor Carmio soon 
found out. 

There seemed to be two bands, and 
they had much plunder. This was loaded 
on the backs of the mules and horses they 
had taken. 

Sometimes they would let Carmio ride, 
and again they would make him walk for 
hours at a time. This was done to tire 
him, so that he would not have the 
strength left to go far should he try to 
escape. At first Carmio' s thoughts were 
all the time upon the chances of getting 

63 



6 4 


CARMIO 


away, and he formed plan after plan. 
But none of them was he able to carry 
out; the Indians were too watchful. 

As one day followed another day, and 
he knew that with each he was being car- 
ried farther and farther away from his 
home, poor Carmio began to lose hope 
and his heart was indeed filled with dis- 
tress. Even if he should escape, how 
could he now find the way back to his 
home? They had already crossed the 
Rio Grande, and were traveling due north- 
east toward the Territory. There were 
other captives in the party, and Carmio 
heard one of them say that by evening of 
the next day the Indians hoped to cross 
the Pecos also. They would then be still 
fifteen days’ journey from their camping 
grounds, the place they called home. 

When they were no longer in his be- 
loved Mexico, when he saw the pony on 
which he rode climbing the sandy bank 
on the other side of the Rio Grande, poor 
Carmio had been completely overcome. 


WITH THE APACHES 


65 


He had let his chin drop upon his breast, 
while the tears rolled down his cheeks. 
Still the cry of his heart was the one 
with which he had looked back toward 
his brother’s ranch, with the smoke curl- 
ing up over the hills, on the afternoon he 
had first been captured : 

“ O madrecita mia (0 my little 
mother), if I had only minded thee! ” 

Tab-i-to-sa seemed to have taken spe- 
cial charge of Carmio. This was doubt- 
less because he had captured him. He 
began to treat the little fellow as though 
he were a slave, giving him all manner of 
hard tasks, speaking harshly to him if he 
did not move at once to do his bidding, 
and even using the lash on him. 

On the fifth day after crossing the 
Pecos River the Indians fell in with some 
half-breed traders. This was a bad thing 
indeed for the poor captives, for these 
traders had whisky to sell; the Indians 
got some of it and terrible scenes took 
place. Two of the captives were killed 

E 


66 


CARMIO 


and two others were badly cut. Carmio 
was tied to the tail of one of the ponies 
and made to keep up even when the pony 
was in a trot. It was then and there that 
Carmio took the firm resolve never, never 
in all his life to touch a drop of that ter- 
rible thing that could make such awful 
creatures of men, and nobly did he keep 
it. 

Ten days beyond the river they came 
to an Apache camp. It was about mid- 
way of the afternoon, and the sun was 
shining full upon the level stretch of 
prairie. It was the first Indian camp 
Carmio had ever seen and, despite the 
sadness and terror, he could not help but 
be interested. The white cloth tepees 
(tents) from which the smoke was curl- 
ing, the cross-poles on which the strips 
of fresh meat hung curing in the sun, the 
ponies tethered near, the men in their 
savage dress, dirty, yet glittering with 
beads and bedecked with feathers, the 
women but little more than half-clad, and 


WITH THE APACHES 


67 


with their babies in quaint board cradles 
slung upon their backs ; all these made a 
strange, fascinating scene for Carmio’s 
eyes. 

“ Get down,” said Tab-i-to-sa roughly 
to Carmio, “ and let the women take the 
ponies.” 

Sure enough there were the women, 
and not the men, waiting to take and care 
for the ponies of the guests. And so 
Carmio found it to be all through his life 
among the Indians; the women, and not 
the men, did the rough work of the camp. 
The men called it “squaw work,” and 
they were above it. 

Soon Pan-tau-tle (Poor Buffalo), the 
head man of the camp, came out to meet „ t; 

t*‘* 

them. He was grandly dressed, or at '*• 
least so he seemed to think. He had 
seen them coming in time to go and array * 
himself. His buckskin suit was gay ~ 
with beads and bits of shining metal. « 
On his feet were moccasins bright 
with beads, and so too, were his 






68 


CARMIO 


fringed leggings. His girdle was adorned 
with beads, buttons, and wolves’ teeth, 
and other more horrible things. Fastened 
about his neck was his blanket, which fell 
in folds behind him, and down the center 
of this was his hair in a long plait, an 
otter’s tail at the end, while owl and eagle 
feathers were in his hair. 

He greeted Tab-i-to-sa first, then each 
of the other Indians, scowling fiercely at 
the captives as any of them came into 
view. 

That night the Indians had a great 
feast and also what they called the eagle 
dance, a horrid performance in which 
those who took part were almost nude. 
As the Indians had some liquor too, the 
poor trembling captives did not know 
what might be their fate before morn- 
ing. 

When the next day came Carmio 
learned that he was to go no farther 
with the Kiowas. Tab-i-to-sa had traded 
him to Pan-tau-tle. The poor boy did 


WITH THE APACHES 


69 


not know whether to be sorry or not. 
All seemed alike to him now in this ter- 
rible state. The only regret he had was 
in seeing fade from view the last face of 
those who could speak his own language, 
whose eyes had looked with his upon the 
sunny skies of their loved Mexico. Now 
indeed he was alone. 

The Kiowas were not more than out of 
sight when Pan-tau-tle called Carmio to 
him. He had a grim face, and Carmio 
was afraid of him the moment he saw 
him. 

By signs and by a few words of Span- 
jsh, which Pan-tau-tle had learned from 
Mexican captives on the plains, Carmio 
was able to make out the greater part of 
what was said to him. 

“Pull off your clothes ! ” said Pan- 
tau-tle. “You no longer Mexican; you 
Indian now.” 

With this he stripped the poor boy and 
put on him the Indian moccasins, the 
waist-skirt with its fringe, the leggings, 


70 


CARMIO 


belt, blanket, and all. He then smeared 
Carmio’ s face with paint and gave him a 
bow and arrows. 

“ Now go and kill ! ” said Pan-tau-tle. 

Poor Carmio ! he had always been a 
tender-hearted child. He had never killed 
in all his life, not even the birds, just for 
sport. Besides he was young, so young. 
How could he do what this cruel Indian 
was bidding him do? 

* * Go kill ! ’ ’ repeated Pan-tau-tle ; and 
to put force to his words, he dragged 
Carmio out from the camps and made him 
practise with the poor little prairie dogs, 
giving him a cruel cuff every time he 
missed, for he could see that Carmio was 
not trying to hit. At last Carmio killed 
one of the little creatures. As he saw 
his arrow piercing its body, he threw 
himself upon the ground and burst into 
tears. 

Carmio lived with the Apaches five 
years, and oh, what a horrible life it was ! 


WITH THE APACHES 71 

Every year he could feel himself sinking 
lower and lower into it. He had to do 
everything as the Indians did. Pan-tau- 
tle would not even let him speak his own 
language. But there was one thing Pan- 
tau-tle could not do, with all his power; 
he could not drive that language entirely 
from Carmio’ s memory. To all appear- 
ance Carmio was now an Indian. Just 
to look at him his own mother would not 
have known him. He wore the Indian 
dress, he spoke the Indian language, he 
ate as the Indians did, and oh, how dis- 
gusting was their food ! For among the 
Apaches dog meat was thought fine meat 
indeed, and is still. When Carmio had 
first been told to eat the dog meat, he 
had watched every chance to spit it out. 
But Pan-tau-tle had given him so many 
severe beatings about it he had at last 
been conquered. Now Carmio was hard- 
ened to it and to many other things that 
had come to him in this dreadful life. 

Pau-tau-tle was a great tyrant, both in 


72 


CARMIO 


his own tepee and in the camp. The 
women and children were most afraid of 
him. He had several wives, which was, 
and is, the Indian custom. There is no 
law among these savage people to pro- 
tect a wife from her brutal husband. He 
can beat her, he can cut her, he can even 
kill her, and there is no punishment for 
him. She is his slave, his dog; he can 
do as he pleases with her. No one can 
interfere, not even the chief. 

Pan-tau-tle treated all his wives harshly, 
but to the one called Ton-ke-nah he was 
especially cruel. She was a poor, hard- 
worked creature, with a back bent from 
carrying many burdens, but her eyes were 
bright still in spite of her troubles. She 
had been kind to Carmio whenever she 
dared, had even run risks for his sake. 
Her own boy was dead, and this mother- 
less one, though not of her own people, 
drew out the tenderness of Ton-ke-nah. 
This kindness and love made the one 
bright spot in all Carmio’ s sad, terrible 


WITH THE APACHES 73 

life. He tried to return it in every way 
he could to show her how much he cared 
for it, but Pan-tau-tle's watchful eye was 
ever upon both. 

One day Carmio was horrified, after 
hearing Pan-tau-tle's voice in loud quar- 
rel with Ton-ke-nah, to see him draw 
back and deal her a blow that sent her 
spinning to the ground. He then stooped 
over and kicked her and drew a knife. 

Without stopping to think what might 
be the result for himself, Carmio rushed 
forward. 

“Oh, how dare you! " he cried, his 
hand clenched, his eyes blazing. 

In another moment he had given Pau- 
tau-tle a blow with all his might straight 
in the breast. It stunned the Indian for 
a second or so. Then recovering him- 
self, he made a savage plunge for Car- 
mio, caught him by the shoulder and 
dragged him nearer. Then once more 
the knife flashed in the air, but before it 
could descend, the arm of Pan-tau-tle 


74 


CARMIO 


was caught and held, while a voice cried 
sternly : 

“Stop! ” 

And the voice was that of one used to 
command and to be obeyed. 


VI 


AMONG THE KIOWAS 









AMONG THE KIOWAS 



TOP! ” said the voice again. “You 
must not kill the boy. Such as he 
are of use." 

Turning his head quickly Pan- 
tau-tle was surprised to see the 
Apache chief, Psait-cop-ta, standing be- 
hind him. How had he come there with- 
out his knowing it ? 

Psait-cop-ta seemed to read the ques- 
tion in Pan-tau-tle's face, for he said : 

“You were so taken up with the woman 
you did not see me coming. A fine way, 
I must say, to receive your chief/ * Then 
he continued, “ I was afraid I would be 
too late to save the boy. As to the 

woman, well ” He did not finish 

the sentence, only leaned over and gave 
poor Ton-ke-nah a rough stir with his 
foot. She had fainted from the pain. 

77 


7 » 


CARMIO 


“ She'll come 'round all right," he 
said with a shrug and a wicked little 
laugh, “and I hope she’ll profit by the 
lesson. As to the boy, it seems you 
don’t want him, or you wouldn't have 
raised the knife on him. Better let me 
have him." 

Here was a chance Pan-tau-tle had long 
wanted. Ton-ke-nah thought too much 
of the boy to suit him. 

“ How much? " he asked greedily. 

“ How much do you want? " 

“Five ponies," answered Pan-tau-tle 
quickly. 

“ Too much," said the chief, “ a heap 
too much. I’ll give you two ponies." 

Pan-tau-tle shook his head. 

“Two ponies too little. He can do 
much," nodding his head toward Carmio 
as he spoke. 

“Well, then, three ponies; but not an- 
other one," said the chief with decision. 

“Done," said Pan-tau-tle. “Take 
him; he is yours." 


AMONG THE KIO WAS 


79 


Thus Carmio became the property of 
Psait-cop-ta, chief of the Apaches. 

He lived with the chief two years. It 
was a hard life, but it was better in many 
ways than the one at Pan-tau-tle’s camp. 
How very wretched indeed that had been ! 

The chief was a great hunter. One of 
Carmio' s duties was to attend him on 
these hunts and skin and prepare for eat- 
ing the animals that were taken. Some- 
times the poor creatures would not be 
quite dead, and Carmio had to finish 
them. This went hard indeed with the 
gentle-hearted boy, for in spite of his 
savage life of the last years, he still kept 
much of the tender heart of his childhood 
and of the dislike to taking life. 

It was during his second year with the 
chief that something happened, a some- 
thing that changed the whole of Carmio’ s 
life. He was now nearly sixteen years 
of age. Psait-cop-ta and Sait-to-yo, the 
chief of the Kiowas, were great friends. 
They often visited each other and now 


8o 


CARMIO 


and then went on long hunts together. 
The very first time Carmio had seen Sait- 
to-yo he had liked him, and the chief too 
seemed drawn to Carmio. Unlike most 
of the Indians, Sait-to-yo was rather 
fleshy. He had bright eyes and a good- 
humored face, though he was known to 
be very fierce in battle. 

More than one time, when they had 
been on the hunt, Sait-to-yo had looked 
Carmio over kindly and muttered to him- 
self, “ Good ! ” “good!” 

One day Sait-to-yo spoke right out to 
Psait-cop-ta, and asked him what he 
would take for the boy. 

Psait-cop-ta quickly replied that he was 
not for sale. 

A day or two later Sait-to-yo came 
back. He had made up his mind that 
he must have Carmio. He wanted him 
for his daughter, Ke-a-ko, Ved-dle-ke- 
ah's wife. She had no son. Carmio 
should be as a son to her, that is, if the 
chief could buy him. 


AMONG THE KIO WAS 


81 


After a while Psait-cop-ta agreed to 
trade, for he saw he could get a big 
price indeed from the chief if only he 
pushed him far enough. Three mules, 
two ponies, three buffalo robes, and two 
blankets were finally paid for Carmio. 

Thus Carmio found himself again with 
the Kiowas, but it was in a far different 
position than was his at first. Then it 
was as a captive, a slave ; now it was as 
the adopted son of the daughter of the 
chief. But still the life by which he was 
surrounded was the savage and degraded 
one of the wild Indians of the plains. 

The Kiowas, like the Apaches, lived in 
cloth tepees, or tents. They were built 
on poles that were placed in a circle and 
joined together at the tops. In the center, 
on the ground, the fire was built, and all 
around this were the beds, which were 
mats of straw on which blankets were 
placed. Each Indian slept with his feet 
toward the fire. 

At the top of the tepee there was a 

F 


82 CAR MI 0 

flap of the cloth known as the windward 
flap. It was always stretched toward the 
direction from which the wind was blow- 
ing. This was done to keep the smoke 
from driving the people out of the tepee. 
As it was, even with the flap raised 
toward the wind, those inside the tepee 
had to sit down for the most of the time, 
for if they stood up the smoke was sure 
to get in their eyes. 

After Carmio had been there some 
time, one day terrible tidings were brought 
to camp. Chief Sait-to-yo had been slain 
in battle with the Utes. At once the 
whole camp was plunged into mourning. 
Sharp knives were brought and given to 
his wives, and with them they slashed 
themselves on their faces, breasts, and 
arms until the blood flowed in a stream 
down their clothing. All the time they 
were screaming and making most horrible 
noises. One poor thing let her knife 
slip; it went in too far; an artery was 
cut, and in a little while she was dead. 


AMONG THE KIO WAS 


83 


Poor Carmio ! The sight of the blood 
made him sick, the awful noises were in 
his ears, and he felt he should surely die 
with the horror of it all if he did not get 
away. He stole out of the camp and hid 
himself in a clump of trees near the river 
bank. 

When he went back to the camp they 
had brought the body of the chief for 
burial. It was now ready for the grave. 
The knees had been drawn up to the 
breast, and it had been wrapped around 
and around like a bale of goods. All 
the clothing that he had had was burned ; 
so were his saddles, his bows and arrows, 
and the bridles and other trappings of his 
horses. Those things that would not burn 
were broken to pieces and carried after 
him to the grave. 

His ponies were led 
in the procession, 
and at the grave 
they were killed 
one by one, so 



v 


8 4 


CARMIO 


that they might, according to the Indian 
belief, follow their master to the happy 
hunting grounds. 

One day not long after this the news 
came that the government had set apart a 
certain reservation, or parcel of land, for 
the Kiowas, as it had done for the Apaches, 
the Comanches, and the other tribes, and 
they must go and live there. It was that 
portion that is still occupied by them, the 
portion lying along the Washita River, to 
the south of the Cheyenne, Arrapahoe, 
and Wichita reservations. Of course 
Carmio went with them, for he was now 
looked upon as a Kiowa. 

By the death of Sait-to-yo, Carmio had 
lost the best friend he had among the 
Indians. Poor Ke-a-ko wanted to keep 
him, but her husband, Ved-dle-ke-ah, 
who had been afraid of Sait-to-yo while 
he lived, now grew very harsh and unkind 
to Ke-a-ko, and told her she must get rid 
of Carmio. Ke-a-ko had at last to con- 
sent, but there was one thing she would 


AMONG THE KIO WAS 


85 


not do. She had made up her mind 
firmly to that. She would not sell Car- 
mio. He should at least be no one’s 
slave. So, calling him, she bade him 
good-bye with the tears in her eyes, and 
told him he was free. The parting was a 
sad one on Carmio’s part too, for he had 
grown much attached to Ke-a-ko, yet 
there was joy in it also, for now he was 
free, now at last there was no one to 
whom to answer but himself. 

He went to the agent who had been 
sent there by the government, told him 
his story, and asked for work. He was 
given a place at the government store- 
house. 

When Carmio was seventeen and a half 
years old the first government school was 
opened at the agency. In his home in 
Mexico, when he had been a lad of eight 
or nine years, and his dear, patient mother 
had packed his lunch and his books in the 
little basket each morning and followed 
him down the road, we have seen how 


86 


CARMIO 


Carmio did not like to go, how he would 
gladly have kept from it if he could ; but 
now — strange transformation — there came 
over him a great, a deep longing to go to 
school. He felt that he must learn. He 
could no longer put it off. He was so 
ignorant. He must at least learn to read 
and write. What little he had known in 
his Mexican home had been almost for- 
gotten. What wonder in the sad and 
terrible life he had led among the In- 
dians? All these better desires on the 
part of Carmio, the longings to learn, to 
get out of the darkness of ignorance, 
had come because he was older and 
wiser. When he had been a child he 
had been very foolish; he had not ap- 
preciated the blessings by which he had 
been surrounded. How many there are 
like Carmio ! 

When Carmio told the agent his desire, 
he at once made plans to help him, and 
in a short while Carmio was entered as a 
pupil, and never was there a more faith- 


AMONG THE KIO WAS 87 

ful or more industrious one. He knew 
the need of it now. 

Carmio was two years at the school. 
In that time he had grown to be a fine, 
manly young fellow. He wore Indian 
clothes no longer, but a civilized dress 
given him at the school. He had now a 
fair education, and had begun to help in 
the teaching. Then such a strange, such 
a wonderful, such a beautiful thing as 
happened to Carmio ! 





■ 

































V 


VII 


GOOD THINGS FOR CARMIO 












I 





































































GOOD THINGS FOR CARMIO 

NE day at the school Carmio heard 
them talking about a missionary 
who had come. A missionary — 
what did that mean? They told 
him it meant one who had come 
to teach. What had he to teach? 
Carmio wondered. Was it any- 
thing different from that which was taught 
in the school ? Oh yes, it was something 
very, very different, they assured him. 
Did the missionary charge for the teach- 
ing ? Oh no, it was “without money and 
without price/ ' Could any one go to the 
teaching ? Yes, any one, even the poorest 
and the lowliest. Why, how good that 
was, thought Carmio ; and the missionary 
must surely be in earnest. 

The missionary 


came, and the little 




92 


CARMIO 


chapel was built, the chapel where the 
‘ ‘ good teaching ' 1 was to be had ‘ ‘ with- 
out money and without price/ ' Every 
Sunday the bell in the little steeple called 
the Indians from over the plains to the 
* ‘ teaching/ ' They came on their ponies, 
or walking, having waded the streams, 
or from the cloth tepees near at hand 
with the blue smoke curling from their 
tops. This bell, the first they had ever 
heard, was a source of great delight to 
the Indians. They would stand in front 
of the mission house in groups listening 
to it, and almost holding their breath until 
it had ceased to ring. They called it 
‘‘the sweet tongue that spoke beautiful 
things.” The organ too, played by the 
missionary's little daughter, gave them 
deep pleasure. At first they would only 
sit and listen to it in awe and silence, but 
after a while they were persuaded to try 
to follow the hymns. It was not a very 
musical effort on their part, for very few 
Indians can really sing, but it was such a 


GOOD THINGS FOR CARMIO 93 

joy to them to help make “the beautiful 
sounds” that the spirit was there if not 
the harmony. 

The Indians came in their savage 
dress — the men in war-paint, feathers, 
and blankets ; the women with their short 
skirts, leggings, and beaded moccasins, 
and with their babies in board cradles on 
their backs, the long horns of the cradle 
sticking above each mother’s head, one 
on each side, like the horns of some 
great animal. These cradles they would 
place against the outer ends of the 
benches. Sometimes there would be a 
whole row of the cradles with the little 
fellows within tightly laced up to the 
chin, and unable to do anything but stare 
about them wisely and blink their eyes, 
for not even one little hand was allowed 
to come out. Here they would stay quiet 
all through the services, for an Indian 
baby rarely ever cries, unless he is in 
pain. That is very different from some 
babies I have seen in civilized places that 



94 


CARMIO 


disturbed the minister and all the people 
just because they felt cross and ugly. 
But an Indian mother teaches her baby 
better than that. 

What was it the missionary had come 
to teach ? Carmio felt that he must know. 
They said it was something very different 
from what he had learned at the school. 
What could it be ? 

What was it ? Oh, something the 
strangest and the most beautiful of all of 
which Carmio had ever heard. Jesus, 
the Saviour, the pitying, the loving one — 
he had come to die for us, and through 
him, and him alone, we have forgive- 
ness for our sins. How easy it all was! 
“Only believe and thou shalt be saved/ ' 
That was what the missionary kept saying 
over and over. 

Away down in his heart Carmio still 
carried some remembrance of his early 
religious teaching in Mexico. The Virgin 
was yet something real to him. Through 
all the terrible events that had come to 


GOOD THINGS FOR CAR MI 0 


95 


him in his wretched life among the In- 
dians this faith had not been taken en- 
tirely away from him, the faith, the belief 
in the Virgin. It was dimmed, it is true, 
but the flame was still burning. Many 
times in the midst of his woe and desola- 
tion, Carmio had prayed to the Virgin 
and, poor little fellow, he wondered why 
it was she never heard him. 

But what was this the missionary was 
saying ? 4 ‘ Through Jesus, the Redeemer, 
and through him alone, we have forgive- 
ness for our sins.” Why, how strange 
was that! Carmio had been taught to 
regard the Virgin as having more power 
with God than any one. Even the Saviour 
could do nothing unless Mary permitted 
it, or rather suggested it. God had al- 
ways been represented to him as an angry 
judge. If he was to be reached it must 
be through the Virgin. Therefore Carmio 
had begun his prayers with the name of 
the Virgin rather than that of God. It 
was always with words something like 


9 6 


CARMIO 


these, “ Holy Mary, mother of God, most 
blessed Virgin, hear a poor sinner now 
and always.” 

But what was this sweet, this strange, 
this wonderful thing the missionary told 
him ? God was our father, Jesus our 
Saviour, and to God alone we were to 
pray, who, for the sake of Jesus, the dear 
Saviour who died for us, forgives our sins. 
How plain, how simple, how beautiful it 
all was ! 

Yet Carmio was still troubled about the 
Virgin. Those teachings of his childhood 
were too strong to be overcome easily 
now, though nearly eleven years had gone 
by since he had heard them. He took 
his doubts, his perplexities, to the mis- 
sionary, and soon how clear it all was, 
and how happy too was Carmio in the 
new, the precious Saviour he had found. 

“Missionary,” said Carmio one day, 
‘ * I see you are troubled about the right 
one to help you talk to the Indians. Try 
me ; I think I can do it. You tell me 


GOOD THINGS FOR CAR MIO 


97 


and I will tell the Indians. I know all 
three languages, Apache, Comanche, and 
Kiowa, and I know English too.” 

Thus Carmio became the missionary's 
helper and interpreter, a great blessing 
indeed, for good interpreters were few on 
the reservation. 

But Carmio was soon to meet a great 
struggle, the greatest he had known in 
all his life, because so different from any 
that had come to him. 

When Carmio had been given his free- 
dom by Ke-a-ko, one of his first thoughts 
was of his far-away home, his mother, and 
his brothers. But alas, Carmio had for- 
gotten the name of the town near which 
they had lived, and had only a faint idea 
as to the part of Mexico in which it lay. 
His family name too had been forgotten, 
though his given name, Carmio, he had 
kept through all. It was the one link 
that bound him to his home. He remem- 
bered his mother's name, for they had 
often endearingly called her “Mamma 
G 


9 8 


CARMIO 


Martina”; and his brothers too, Paulo 
and Jacinto. Ah, Jacinto ! was it not 
from his ranch Carmio was carried away 
by the awful Comanches ? Could he ever 
forget that ? Sometimes he felt like start- 
ing out and walking on and on until he 
should find his loved ones from whom he 
had been so cruelly taken. But where 
was that home ? How was he to find it ? 

One day Carmio happened to be at the 
government store. Several traders were 
there who had come to purchase cattle. 
Two of them had lately been to Mexico. 
Carmio heard them talking about it. He 
listened with ears strained to catch every 
word, for was it not his own loved land 
about which they were speaking ? Sud- 
denly a name was mentioned. At sound 
of it Carmio almost leaped from the box 
on which he was sitting. “Jacinto Her- 
nandez ! * 9 Why, that was his own broth- 
er’ s name ! The moment he heard it he 
remembered it. How could he ever have 
forgotten it ? 


GOOD THINGS FOR CAR MI O 


99 


“Oh, sir,” he said to the trader, “tell 
me if he were alive; if you really saw 
him ! He is my brother — pardon me for 
being so excited — my own brother whom 
I have not seen for all these years ! ’ * 
“Yes, as fully alive as he could be,” 
replied the good-natured trader, who knew 
something of Carmio’s story and felt sorry 
for him. 

“And the mother” — Carmio’s voice 
almost failed him as the loved name was 
pronounced — “was she there ? Did you 
see her ? Is she yet alive ? ’ * 

“The Signor Hernandez had no mother 
living with him,” said the trader slowly 
and in a low tone. He felt sorrier than 
ever for the boy. 

For a moment all seemed dark before 
Carmio. Oh could it be that she was 
really dead, his own sweet Madrecita ? 
Then he remembered — and oh, the joy in 
that remembrance — his mother lived with 
her other sons some miles from Jacinto’s ; 
she was probably yet alive. 


IOO 


CARMIO 


“Oh how can I reach them ?” he ex- 
claimed, “how let them know that I am 
still alive ? Could I not go ? Could I 
not walk?” 

“No, my boy,” said the trader, de- 
cidedly. “It is hundreds of miles, and 
the country is wild.” 

“Send them a letter,” said the store- 
keeper to Carmio. “They will answer 
it and tell you what to do.” 

A letter! In all his life Carmio had 
never sent or received a letter. How 
strange it was to think of it now ! He 
had been to the post office, he had seen 
others getting and sending the queer little 
packages, but it had never struck him 
that he could in this way send to or 
receive a message from his loved ones. 

The name of his brother’s post office 
was obtained from the trader, the letter 
written and sent, and then came the long 
and trying days of the waiting. At 
length the answer came, and oh, what 
joy it brought to Carmio ! 


GOOD THINGS FOR CARMIO ioi 


Yes, the dear mother was yet alive, 
and so were the brothers. But the mother 
had not been very well for some time, 
and now this shock of hearing that he, 
her youngest born, yet lived, had been 
a great one to her, though one of joy. 
He must hasten to come, for they were 
impatient to see him. Money was en- 
closed for his expenses, and he was given 
clear directions. 

Now began the struggle with Carmio. 
How he longed to go ! yea, with every 
throb of his heart. It seemed to him, 
looking backward over all the wretched 
and lonely years, that there could be no 
joy on earth equal to this of being with 
his loved ones again. But how could he 
go away from the new life that had come 
to him here, the new, strange, sweet life 
of the past few months? How could 
he leave the missionary and the mission 
church and the good that he knew he was 
helping to do? Jesus, the dear Saviour, 
had done so much for him. Could he 


102 


CARMIO 


turn his back on the work now, the work 
for Jesus, the work that he saw so plainly 
was for him to do ? But on the other 
side was the dear mother who had loved 
him too in her earthly way, who had 
given up much for him, whose arms were 
at that very moment aching to clasp him 
to her heart again. 

The missionary saw the struggle and 
pitied Carmio with all his heart, but he 
thought it a question for the boy alone to 
decide. It would be better so. Some- 
how he felt that Carmio would make the 
right choice, so he prayed for him and 
waited. 

At the end of a day or so Carmio 
came to the missionary and said : 

‘‘Missionary, I have chosen. I will go 
to my mother and brothers. I will see 
them again. My heart cries out for that 
and I cannot say it nay. I will fold my 
mother in my arms; I will tell of the 
Saviour I have found and beg her to let 
him be her Saviour too. Then I will 


GOOD THINGS FOR CARMIO 103 

come back. I will bring her if she will 
but come. If she will not, then I must. 
I feel that I must, missionary. Jesus 
shows me so plainly how I am needed 
here.” 

But before Carmio could make ready to 
go another letter came. The dear mother 
had passed into the beyond. The shock 
of hearing that he was yet alive had been 
too great for her in her feeble condition. 
The sacrifice need not now be made. 
There was but the one choice for Carmio. 

Long and bitterly Carmio wept. The 
bitterest tears were at the thought that 
the mother had gone before he could tell 
her of the precious Saviour who alone 
can forgive sin. He went to see his 
brothers, stayed for a few months, then 
came back. 

Should you go to Anadarko, and while 
there attend the services at the little 
mission church, you would see a dark- 
faced young man, with very bright eyes 
and a quick, intelligent manner, standing 


104 


CARMIO 


beside the minister during the sermon. 
Each sentence the minister speaks is 
slowly and carefully repeated to the In- 
dian congregation. Sometimes his eyes 
fill with tears as he adds his own words of 
persuasion. The young man is Carmio. 










